


Muffliato

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Potterlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:04:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can they both be wizards if they've never met before? It's a small community, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muffliato

He had to ask. It was time, and a line had been crossed. John imagined Sherlock had discovered his secret ages ago, but had obviously kept it to himself out of- what? Self preservation? Consideration? Whatever the case, John had it under control. He seldom allowed himself to indulge privately, never mind in public- or most disastrously, in front of Sherlock. He hadn't imagined that Sherlock had been mum on the matter out of solidarity.

He had been ready to sacrifice himself for the other man. Was he always ready? It never seemed to take any preparation. Always a heartbeat away from throwing in his whole lot for a cause Sherlock though was just. This time he'd been three paces away from taking a bullet. As he'd lunged through the dark toward Sherlock's unguarded form, John caught a sudden glint of eye contact. It was filled with command and panic; _Don't_ , and _No_ , and then _Fall_. And so John fell- emphatically, just a few feet shy of Sherlock. It was so artificial, and his body had performed the fumble so purposefully that his brain rang with the fraud of it. He felt a disturbance of air when the shot sounded, and was sure it was the whump of a fallen body. Ignoring jarred knees and scuffed chin he pressed up to see what had become of his friend.

Sherlock was stood still, not a mark on him. Their attackers were on the ground, senseless. John shook himself, and a vague complacent feeling peeled away. Had he been out for a moment? It couldn’t be. Sherlock swept across the corridor to the prone adversaries and made busy with their wrists and some zipties he kept in his surprisingly capacious pockets. Something clicked in John's brain just as he heard approaching foot fall. Three Yarders trotted into view in the half light, disbelieving in their eyes, but not as fervently as John.

When they got into their taxi soon after the commotion of arrests and obligatory warnings to Do-It-By-The-Book-Or-Else John finally decided to force the question. He slipped a hand into his pocket and breathed “ _Muffliato._ ”

“How is it we've never met, then?” John twisted in his seat to face his fellow passenger fully after casting a confirming glance at the oblivious cabbie. “You would have been at school with me. I would have remembered you.”

“What? What are you talking about, John? You didn't go to public school,” Sherlock rebuffed easily.

“No, No I didn't- I went somewhere you might learn to recognize the Imperious Curse when you're placed under it.” Sherlock hissed, glancing at the cabbie. “I'm certain you've known-”

“All along. Obvious.”

John huffed and continued- “but I never imagined you kept quiet because you didn't want to out _yourself_.”

“I don't practice,” Sherlock said quietly, as though he mentioned never having seen a certain television program.

“Well, if when you do its wandless Unforgivable Curses, you might be overdoing it!” That made him wince, at least, John noticed with satisfaction.

“Are you angry that I broke the law, or that I didn't confide in you? Because you might not have noticed but I was trying to save-”

“So was I! How long have we known each other? Years! We've always had each others back, and it might have been nice to know you could rip a bullet out of the air in a pinch!”

A long sigh. John suddenly felt it might be a bit unfair, he hadn’t been particularly forthcoming, either.

“I don't like to use it. But I have. And I'll go on not practicing, if it's all the same to you.”

That stopped John. If Sherlock's talent for magic was anything akin to his other blessings how could someone that tremendously gifted walk away from it? John himself was a Half-blood, and remembered years of childhood ache, desperately wishing to be like his mother. Harry wasn't. John was so like Harry at the time, he worried he'd only imagined floating toys, stupendous leaps, and crackles of conjury. But finally, Hogwarts accepted him, and things were good. When war broke out, his Mother urged the family to take refuge in their Muggle camouflage, and he respected her wishes, finding another mortal peril for himself instead. Allowing himself to thrive amidst the straightforward violence of man filled the void for a time, and when that also ended he became certain he didn't deserve that fulfillment anymore. He hadn't carried a wand in years, but no longer felt worthy of it when he came back to London. The day after he met Sherlock was the day he finally retrieved it from his vault. He didn't intend to use it, but he wanted to have access to his potential from now on. Sherlock had taught him that. How could he deny it to himself?

“And Mycroft-”

“No. I'm muggleborn. But he is of course, a liaison with The Ministry.”

“That explains _so_ much,” John muttered. “But- you certainly weren't in my House. I would have known you.”

Sherlock was the man who reanimated John, and he felt like that kind of impression would ripple through time in every direction, and he'd always know him, in any reality.

“Well, I say muggleborn, but Grandmere was a Veela. When she discovered my magic she insisted I be sent to Beauxbaton.”And then he added under his breath, “Mycroft was envious.”

John scoffed at this revelation. “A wandless Unforgivable Curse casting quarter-Veela Legilmens. Can't imagine why.”

“I'm not a Legilimens,” Sherlock pouted, and folded into himself petulantly.“This is why I didn't tell you.”

“You don't want to be better than other people because you're a wizard, you want to be better because you’re cleverer. Have I got it right?”

John couldn't be sure, because Sherlock looked away at the window, but he thought perhaps his eyes misted over. He seemed to have miscast his muffliato charm, at any rate, because his head started to buzz. The whirring settled it's way down his throat, and nearly to his heart before he uttered again.

“Well you don't have to pretend with me anymore. You're the best man I know.” Sherlock turned to him again.

“That's... appreciated. Thank you.”

“Any thing else while we're clearing the air?”

“I'm an animagus,” Sherlock deadpanned. A bloody Animagus.

“You would be. Form?”

“A raven.”

“Ugh, the Poe should have been a clue,” John admonished himself, remembering the priceless daguerreotype Sherlock kept.

“And a very obvious one, John. Shoddy detective work,” he smirked.

“In the interest of full disclosure, should I mention we're on the Floo Network?”

Sherlock arched a brow. “Who do you think pushed through approval? I think now you know why I never seem to have the keys.”

“Anything else?” John still nagged at keeping of his last secret. The other one he never indulged in, that made him more likely to leap in front of madmen. Sherlock considered him quietly a moment.

“And I can't do without you. Otherwise-” he stopped, unsure of what to say. “You're more important than being cleverest.”

“Did I hear you right? I just want to be sure before I get that engraved-”

“Oh shuttup,” Sherlock threw a gentle punch at his shoulder. John caught it in his hand and met Sherlock’s glance. Ah, that was the look that had wound its charm around him long ago. John thought if Sherlock _knew_ he’d never need to use a spell to get John to do anything he required.

“And, I suppose it's the same for me.”

“I know. I've known since the day you retrieved your wand,” Sherlock said. He reached out and brushed the scrape on John's chin with a thumb, and the injury vanished. 

“Now you're just showing off.”

“Mmm. That's nothing. Wait til we get home.”

**Author's Note:**

> [I've done some cutie art of Sherlock as a Beauxbaton student if you're interested](http://stitchlock.tumblr.com/tagged/bbpotterlock)


End file.
